


Summer Waves and Cool Guitar

by balkani



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Day At The Beach, Drinking, Fluff, Hannibal And Will Have A Good Day, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is a Mess, M/M, Murder, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Soft Hannibal, Soft Will, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balkani/pseuds/balkani
Summary: It's been a few months since Will and Hannibal fell off the cliff, and they've finally found themselves a home in Cuba. A nice, beach-side cabana, calm waves, and the occasional murder to take the edge off running from the FBI. Just your average beach day.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	Summer Waves and Cool Guitar

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! I had to reupload this bc for some reason the kudos, word count, comments, and word count weren't showing up so I had to fix that. Anywho, enjoy this sweet fluff! if you're here from my hp hannigram fic (shameless plug) a new chapter should be out soon--i've just been really busy. Enjoy!

Cuba really is a beautiful place, Will thought as he hiked his bag higher over his shoulder, following Hannibal down the secluded path leading to their new home. It had taken a decent amount of digging on Hannibal’s part--he only had so much money put aside before being taken into the BSHCI, and they had used most of it to get to Cuba in the first place. This cabana was a rare gem, and Hannibal had the eye to find it. The hill steepened, and Will looked over the crest of trees to see the ocean glittering in the distance. His dogs would have loved it, but they were probably in someone else’s care now. Maybe Hannibal would let them get a dog, now that they had a place to stay. 

The gate in front of their house was big--Will couldn’t see over it. Trees stretched in every direction, essentially blocking the cabana from the road. 

“Looking to get up to something nefarious?” Will teased as Hannibal rummaged around in his shorts pocket for their keys. Hannibal chuckled, but said nothing more. The key ring had three keys--one for the gate, one for the house, and one for a shed, Will assumed. Hannibal unlocked the gate, opening it with some trouble. The sand was built up around it, but Will could see inside. Palm trees lined their yard, which was mostly sand. There was enough dirt for a small garden, Will noted. He entered first, Hannibal close behind. Their cabana was less of a small beach house and more like the flashy sort of thing Hannibal used to adore. 

“It’s a chalet-style cabana,” Hannibal said to Will. “I know it’s rather large, but it  _ is  _ a bit of a fixer-upper, so it was cheap.” 

“And who will be doing all this fixing?” Will asked, smiling. “Surely not Mr. Internal Damage here, right?” he said, gesturing to Hannibal. Bashfully, Hannibal scratched the side of his neck, where his hair fell almost to the base of it. 

“I will try to help you as best I can,” Hannibal said, and Will laughed. 

The house was beautiful, the darker tones of the wood contrasting nicely with the pale sand. 

“The stretch of beach in front of the house is ours as well,” Hannibal said, walking up the front steps with Will close behind. “We will have to take a swim later.”

Will nodded as Hannibal unlocked the door to their new home, opening it to a rather impressive front entrance. There were many, many different windows, all at different angles, providing an amount of natural light Will had never experienced in a house before. The entry led on the left to the kitchen, and on the right was the living room. A spiral staircase was set down the hall from the door, and Will assumed it led upstairs. 

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked, closing the door, and Will nodded. Hannibal set down his luggage, and Will his bag. First, Hannibal guided him into the large kitchen, with a wide window set in front of the sink, providing a perfect view to the beach. 

“The kitchen was a must,” Hannibal said. 

“The view isn’t too bad either,” Will replied. “The kitchen is fully furnished?”

Hannibal nodded. “The entire house is, save for the basement. It seems the only place that needs work is the outside--the foundations are stable.”

Will hummed, and they left the kitchen to observe the living room. Large, leather chairs sat in front of an even larger fireplace, a flatscreen mounted above it. Behind them, a sort of study sat, bookcases against the wall, a desk in front. The windows here were thinner, but longer, and provided a view of their backyard. Hannibal’s taste was apparent. 

“Shall we move to the dining room?” Hannibal asked, but Will ignored him, sinking into one of the plush chairs. 

“My legs are tired from the walk, and I bet yours are too.”

“I told you, we should have hired a taxi--”

“They could find us from that,” Will countered. Hannibal’s face fell, and Will realized that he had been a bit harsh on Hannibal recently. 

After the fall, they had to do some rudimentary surgery on Hannibal from the gunshot wound, but Hannibal was no help, and although Chiyoh had some basic skills, Hannibal was still heavily impared. He was getting old, and the pain was crippling sometimes. Will sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Hannibal. Are you feeling ok?”

Hannibal sat in the other chair, avoiding Will’s gaze. “Now that I’ve settled down a bit, it seems to be worse. I understand why you chose to walk the whole way, but I may need to rest a bit before we tour the rest of the house,  _ mylimasis. _ ” 

Will agreed, and they sat there for a few minutes, taking it all in. They had a place to themselves now, and Jack Crawford and the FBI were likely none the wiser. 

“What’s in the basement?” Will asked, and Hannibal smiled. 

“What would you expect, Will?” he said. Will didn’t respond, so he continued. “It’s empty, for now. However, I did order some equipment that should be coming in soon.”

Will decided not to ask, knowing that he was probably planning on killing people here in Cuba.

“What will they call you here, if not  _ Il Mostro di Firenze  _ or the Chesapeake Ripper?” 

Hannibal pondered that for a minute. “I believe that it all comes down to you. Will you observe or participate?”

“Participate,” Will said plainly. Hannibal smiled.

“Then whatever name they give us will be fit for two.”

With that, Will stood up, and held out a hand for Hannibal to take. He did, and Will helped him up.

“I’d like to see the dining room now,” he said. “If you’re feeling up to it.”

“Of course.” 

They proceeded into the dining room, where a long table sat, the head of which was backed by yet another window. It looked similar to Hannibal’s back in Baltimore--large cases containing various nice dishware sat on either side of the table. The table itself would comfortably seat around eight, Will reasoned. Although, no more dinner parties for them. They were wanted men, after all. Couldn’t have someone recognize them and upheave their lives once again. Before sailing to Cuba (a rather suspicious-looking captain owed Hannibal a favor), Will made Hannibal promise to only kill people on occasion, to try and not attract suspicion. Hannibal agreed, as long as Will would accompany him on these trips. 

“There’s a fire pit in the backyard,” Hannibal said. “If we ever wanted to eat a roast pig, the table would hold it.” 

Will hummed, running his fingers along the grain of the table. 

“It’s a wonderful place,” Will said. “I’ll go grab our bags, can you make it up the stairs yourself?” 

Hannibal nodded, and Will returned to the front door to retrieve their belongings. Will only had a large backpack, while Hannibal had one of those rolling luggage cases. Even on the run, he refused to have his clothes wrinkled. Will headed upstairs, where Hannibal had entered one of the bedrooms. It was a nice, pale blue, and was reminiscent of Will’s upstairs in his old house in Wolf Trap. 

“This is your room,” Hannibal said. “I assumed you would want this one, because of the view.” 

It was on the left side of the house, and when Will looked out the window, he could see all the way up the mountain they had just walked down on. It was vibrant, and Hannibal was right. Will enjoyed this view more than the beach--it reminded him of home. 

“Thanks,” Will said, chucking his bag on his bed. The room itself held a dresser and two bedside tables, as well as a TV over the dresser. It also connected to a bathroom. 

“Would you like to see my room?” Hannibal asked, and Will nodded. 

“I’ll take your luggage in,” Will said. Hannibal’s room was opposite Will’s, but farther up the hallway. It was larger than Will’s, and offered a nice overlook of the sea. It held the same furniture as Will’s, but he noted that it was carpeted, unlike his own. Hannibal also had a connected bathroom. 

“Here,” Will said, placing Hannibal’s bag next to his bed. “What are the other rooms?” he asked, looking over at Hannibal, who was pale.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I think I need to lay down,” Hannibal said quietly, and Will understood. 

“Of course,” Will said. “I’m going to explore the property while you sleep, ok?”

Hannibal nodded, and headed over to the bed. Will watched as Hannibal kicked off his sneakers and crawled onto the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. Will left, closing the door behind him. Maybe a cane would be a good idea. He got the mental image of Hannibal, dressed in the nines like he used to, holding an elegant cane, and felt his ears heat up. Well, he never dressed like that nowadays, it was all button-ups and khakis. He dressed like Will used to. 

Will looked around on the rest of the top floor--the only other room was a sitting room with a couch and one of those carts rich people put their alcohol on. Another TV was present in this room, and a foosball table. Will could never imagine Hannibal playing foosball, maybe he’d have to play him sometime.

The yard was impressive, Will thought once he walked outside. Not as big as the one in Wolf Trap, but still large. There was a small shed next to the house that was full of beach supplies, like chairs and umbrellas. Maybe he’d go sit on the beach later. Will sighed. There was a small shopping district up the mountain, Will had noticed. They needed to eat, and there was nothing in the fridge. He’d have to go into town while Hannibal was still sleeping--Hannibal was more wanted than he was. Will was sure that Jack thought he had kidnapped Will, which was why it was usually only Hannibal’s face plastered on the wanted reports. 

Will decided that he’d go shopping now and go to the beach later, so he closed up the shed and headed back inside, sparing a glance towards the ocean. The afternoon light hit it just so, and he found himself wanting to go for a swim. Internally chiding himself (food first, relax later), he returned to his room and pulled out his worn leather wallet from his bag, and then stopped in to check on Hannibal. He was sleeping soundly, his mouth slightly open. Will left him a note in case he woke up, and left the house. It all seemed so surreal to him. A month ago, they were living out of an abandoned warehouse in Florida, the month before that was spent running from state to state, taking trains and trying to keep Hannibal alive. Will had wounds too, but nothing as severe as Hannibal’s. Absentmindedly, Will rubbed the thick scar on his cheek while he unlatched the gate. 

They had a house now. They had running water and no one knew where they were. Hannibal could rest and Will could figure out what the hell their relationship was, they could get a dog. IT seemed too good to be true. Usually, things like this were. Will latched the gate behind him and began the trek up the mountain. He spoke enough Spanish to get by, he figured, so it wouldn’t be too hard to get food, right?

Wrong. There was a language barrier there that was too complex for Will to try and puzzle his way through--after about ten minutes of struggling (god, how he wished Hannibal, fluent in six languages, had come with him) he managed to buy enough simple groceries to keep them fed for a few days while everything settled down. The setup of the shopping area was a lot like a farmer’s market, except a lot quieter than most farmer’s markets Will had observed while in Baltimore. He walked around for a bit, taking in what people had to sell and just generally people-watching. He stumbled across a stall where a man was wood-working, and noticed he had some rather nice, if simple, canes for sale. One of them was carved with a delicate snake, and looking it over, Will realized it would be the perfect length for Hannibal to walk with. Not too short, and not too long either. He tried asking the craftsman how much it would be, but he didn’t respond. Will was about to try again (damn his broken Spanish) when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Will turned to see a man roughly his age standing there, smiling. 

“Need some help?” he said, with a hint of an accent. “I can see you need some work on your Spanish.”

Will blushed--he had literally killed a man, for fuck’s sake, but couldn’t hold a conversation in a language that wasn’t English. The man laughed. “It’s alright, I get it. You just moved in down the road from me. I’m Amador.” 

“John,” Will said. Of course, he was going to use a fake name, he was on the run after all. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Amador said, “Now, what are you looking at?”

“That cane up there,” Will said, gesturing towards it. “My...friend needs it.” Will hoped that Amador didn’t ask questions, and was rewarded with Amador fluently exchanging with the craftsman, who responded gruffly.

“It’s gonna be about three thousand pesos,” Amador said, and Will groaned. That was almost all the money he had left. It was worth it, though, and he nodded to Amador, who spoke again to the craftsman. Will handed Amador his pesos (it was three-thousand and fifty) and Amador exchanged it for the cane, which Will held gently. It was prettier up close, and very sturdy.

“Thank you,” Will said to Amador. “I don’t know what I would have done…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Amador said, cutting him off. “I can only hope for your friendship in return.” 

Will smiled, and Amador and him chatted while walking back down the mountain. Amador stopped at his own house, a small rancher, and smiled. 

“Well, this is my stop. Hopefully we see each other again, neighbor,” Amador said, not unkindly, and left Will standing on the road. Will continued down to his gate, glancing back up at where Amador lived. He could only hope Amador hadn’t recognized him. 

Will dumped the groceries on the kitchen counter. The sky was as bright as when he had left, the color filling his kitchen. He flicked on the light, and went to put their food away. He bought fresh vegetables, fruit, honey, and some milk. When he opened the fridge, however, he found it was almost fully stocked. 

“What the fuck,” Will said quietly. He opened the cabinet next to the fridge and found it was full of non-perishables. He went around the kitchen, from cabinet to cabinet, and found it all full. Anything he could ever want, there was some of it here. He left the cabinets open as he drifted to the large pantry--full as well. He stood there, staring at the impressive assortment of foods. A wine cooler sat to one side, and when he opened it, nine bottles of what looked like  _ very  _ expensive red wines stared back. 

“Are you kidding me?” Will said, closing the door. He went into the living room, opening a set of drawers set into the wall next to the fireplace. Movies, TV shows on DVD, hell, there were CDs in there, too. Everywhere that he went, things had been stocked to the nines. He wouldn’t be surprised if his bedside table wasn’t full of books he’d enjoy or crossword puzzles (a secret hobby of his). 

He returned to the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was a tight fit, but he managed. He took note that he hadn’t seen a lick of meat the entire time, but Will knew the reasons for that. Sighing, he sat down at the breakfast bar. Of course Hannibal would do this. No reason to leave, avoid suspicion, et cetera, et cetera. He picked up the cane from where he had put it on the counter, looking it over. The details were so much finer under a brighter light and more scrutiny--the curve of the top of it looked like it would fit Hannibal’s hand well. Will decided now was a good time as any to give it to him, and ascended the stairs. 

Hannibal was still sleeping when Will entered his room, but he had switched positions. Gently, Will shook him to wake him up, and Hannibal blinked the sleep out of his eyes. 

“What time is it, Will?” he asked groggily, running a hand through his hair. 

“Late afternoon, I’d guess,” Will said. “I bought this for you,” he continued, presenting Hannibal with the cane. 

Hannibal sat up and hummed, looking at it. “If you had bought me this, say, a month ago, I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said while running his fingers over the snake carving.

“Why’s that?” Will asked, sitting on the bed next to Hannibal.

“I didn’t want to be weak,” Hannibal said truthfully. “I had...trouble admitting I am not in my prime anymore.” 

“You’re pretty old,” Will said, and Hannibal laughed. 

“I wish that I wasn’t,” Hannibal said. “There is a sort of facade I feel I had to put on in the past, but I no longer feel that need. Now I wish to just, well, live.”

They sat there, Will mulling over Hannibal’s words in his head.

“So...you’re saying that you’re content to retire, basically?”

Hannibal smiled. “From being a psychiatrist? Certainly. The time has come and gone for me to speak convolutedly, all smoke and mirrors. I do not wish to dig into other people’s heads, if only in the metaphorical sense.”

“You’re still planning on killing, then?”

“That is who I am,” Hannibal said simply. “I hope you join me like you said you would.”

“We have a neighbor,” Will blurted out. “He’s nice, but…”

Hannibal glanced at Will, smiling. “Neighbors are troublesome.”

“That they are,” Will said, sighing. “Didn’t have many in Wolf Trap.” 

“Hopefully we won’t have many here,” Hannibal concluded. He stood up slowly, testing his weight on the cane. “This is a wonderful cane,” he said. “Thank you.”

Will waved him off, standing up as well. “It’s no issue,” he said. “Also, I went out for groceries, and the entire house is full of them. Where did it come from?”

“I hired someone to buy all of our needs pre-emptively,” Hannibal stated, like it was normal. “No need to leave.” 

“And I did leave.”

“So, you know what that means. What is the name of our dear neighbor?”

“Amador.”

Hannibal hummed, opening his closet, which was, as Will guessed, full. “Where does he live?”

“Up the road,” Will said while staring into Hannibal’s closet. There was a surprising lack of formal wear. Hannibal pulled out a loose Hawiian-themed shirt and held it up against himself. 

“Would you like me to wear this to the beach? We should go before it gets dark.”

The sheer shock of it all made Will laugh.

“What is it,  _ mylimasis? _ ” Hannibal asked, although the smile on his face said otherwise. 

“Never thought I’d see you even thinking about wearing something so garish,” Will said, and Hannibal’s smile widened. 

“It will go nicely with the matching beach shorts,” he said, pulling out said pair, and Will burst into laughter. He couldn’t stop--Hannibal Lecter, the man with so much blood on his hands, who wears fine tailored suits and eats only the most gourmand foods on the planet, about to wear a shitty, cheap Hawaiian t-shirt and board shorts. 

“I’ll let you get changed,” Will said in between laughs, and left quickly afterwards, not wanting to spoil the surprise for himself. He changed into a simple pair of swim shorts and a t-shirt, and when he ducked into the bathroom, found an ample supply of sunscreen waiting for him. Better safe than sorry, he thought while spraying himself all over. He found a pair of flip flops in the closet and slipped them on. 

“I’ll meet you out there,” Will yelled down the hall. 

“Get chairs,” was the only response. For some reason, there was this tight feeling in Will’s chest that he couldn’t quite place--he kept smiling and he didn’t know why. Be still, my beating heart!, he cursed at himself internally, his heart racing while he opened the front door. He made his way to the shed, taking out two chairs and two towels. 

The walk to the beach was a rushed one--Will felt the need to be all ready and set up by the time Hannibal came outside. He put the two chairs next to each other, draped the towels across the backs...and no sign of Hannibal. Why was Will so excited? Perhaps he was looking forward to finally being able to relax after months and months. He stripped off his shirt, and headed into the ocean while he waited. It was warm, and Will felt his cheek burn at how wide his smile was. It was so beautiful, he thought. Nothing like the sea when they fell over the cliff--it was gentle, and the waves lapped at his chest the deeper he went. He began floating on his back, just letting the waves take him wherever he went. The sky was a light pink--sunset was slowly approaching. For the first time in many sunsets, he felt at peace. He felt this calm with Hannibal sometimes, when they had leaned on each other for comfort, when Hannibal woke him from a bad dream, or when the roles were reversed, and Will had to be the rock in Hannibal’s storm. He sighed. 

“ _ Brangusis,  _ come in from the water!” he heard Hannibal call out to him, a happy note in his voice. When had Will ever heard him sound so content? He couldn’t recall. He swam towards the shore, laughing as the image of Hannibal wearing the matching shirt and shorts appeared on the horizon. He was leaning on his cane, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and glasses in the other. Will came out of the water, shaking his hair like a wet dog. Hannibal chuckled, setting the glasses down on his chair. He handed Will his towel, which Will accepted gratefully. He pulled his shirt back on, and took the wine from Hannibal so he could sit down. Hannibal let Will pour their glasses, and Hannibal laid his cane down in the sand. Will took a sip of the wine, noting how it was crisp and flavorful on his tongue.

“This must have cost you a fortune,” Will said lightly, and Hannibal swirled his wine around in his glass. 

“It was more than worth it,” he said, taking a sip. “I’m glad to see you’re enjoying it.” 

They sat there, together, watching the waves lap at the shore near their feet. Birds flew in the air and swam on the sea, and Will named every one. He could feel Hannibal staring at him, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His ears reddened but nothing more. Finally, once the sky had deepened to almost a purplish blue, Will’s personal favorite for the evening, he stood up, putting his glass on the sand. He reached a hand out to Hannibal, who took it, albeit a bit confused. 

“Come on,” Will said, pulling Hannibal towards the water. Hannibal chuckled, and let himself be dragged in. Gently, Will led Hannibal to a spot where they were both about waist-deep. Hannibal’s shirt clung to his stomach, and so did Will’s. Hannibal looked at Will’s stomach sadly, and Will could see that the white of the fabric showed off his scar rather blatantly. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Will said, halfheartedly, but to his surprise, Hannibal lifted up his own shirt to show the twisting scar that was the bullet hole. The area around it was red, and Will winced. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? It’s gotten so bad--” 

Hannibal shushed him, pulling his shirt back down. “It’s nothing, truly. I may be out of commission for a few days, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me company.”

Will thought back on the times where the infections had ravaged Hannibal’s guts, when he was delirious with fever, maybe more so on the drugs. He had kept whispering Mischa’s name, over and over, when Will wasn’t around. When it was Will, the mantra became  _ mylimasis, brangusis, meile.  _ Will didn’t know what the words meant, and he didn’t want to ask. It seemed that Lithuanian was a language Hannibal felt comfort in, and Will didn’t want to take that away from him. Sometimes the secrets spoke more. 

Hannibal sighed, reaching towards Will’s hip. Will let Hannibal lift up his shirt, feeling the warmth of his hands on his skin. With his other hand, Hannibal traced the scar with his thumb, and Will felt the same pressure in his chest that he had before, along with a jolt of ticklishness. He let out a small laugh, and Hannibal smiled warmly. 

“I regret what I did that day,” Hannibal said quietly, only for Will to hear. “Not a day goes by where I do not think about my actions.”

“I forgave you, Hannibal. I still do,” Will said in return, taking Hannibal’s hand. “I wasn’t ready, but you were.” 

“Perhaps.” 

Will and Hannibal stood there, the waves gently pushing at the both of them. Hannibal looked at Will while Will stared at their conjoined hands. Will rubbed Hannibal’s thumb, gently, and Hannibal reached for Will’s face, tilting it up towards him. Will looked at Hannibal, really  _ looked _ . His pupils were huge, and dark, and his face was in an expression unknown to him. Never in his life had anyone aside from Hannibal looked at him with such infatuation. Somehow, Will knew what was going to happen, and closed his eyes. Just like he had done in that kitchen many years ago, Hannibal stroked Will’s face gently, leaning in. 

He pressed a small kiss to Will’s sea-salt forehead, pushing back the curls for the perfect spot. It felt more intimate than Will would have liked, but he turned red and gripped Hannibal’s hand tightly. Hannibal pressed his forehead to Will’s, and Will glanced away, but looked back as Hannibal drew back, just a bit. 

_ “Aš tave labai myliu, _ ” Hannibal whispered, and Will, even though he didn’t know Lithuanian, knew what he had said. Will smiled, and pulled Hannibal in for a tight hug, not unlike the one they had shared on the cliff. Will let his head rest on Hannibal’s chest, feeling him breathe and just listening to his heartbeat. They were safe, Will thought. Finally. 

“A kiss on the forehead is meant to show care,” Hannibal said quietly, his voice rumbling in Will’s ears. Will didn’t respond, he just stood there with his arms wrapped around Hannibal, Hannibal’s holding Will close to him. They stood there for what felt like ages, until Hannibal apologized, pulling away. 

“I regret to ruin the moment, but I must sit down,” he said sadly. 

“I understand,” Will said, and he led Hannibal back to his chair, where he wrapped himself in his towel. The air wasn’t chilly, but Will felt like something of his had stayed in the water where they stood. 

“Will you be ok here by yourself for a bit? I know you said you wanted to do this together,” Will asked, leaning down to talk to Hannibal. Hannibal looked up at him, delighted. 

“I’ll be just fine. I await your return,” he said, and Will smiled. 

“As long as you’re cooking.”

“I always am.”

Will kissed Hannibal’s forehead, and Will felt how warm it was. Smiling, Hannibal waved Will off, and Will retreated back into the house to prepare. 

After taking a quick shower, he retreated into the basement, where he found all of what he would need. He took a knife that felt the right weight in his hand, slipping it into the boots he had found in his closet. On went the plastic covering over his clothes, and gloves on top of that. Lastly, he grabbed an industrial trash bag--he was sure he’d be able to carry the body. 

He carefully approached Amador’s home, where he knocked on the front door. Amador answered it quickly, and was treated with a knife to his throat. Ignoring his protests, Will forced himself inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Anyone else here?”

“No, it’s just me--what are you doing?” Amador asked tearfully, ignorant of the fact he had just signed his own death certificate. Will looked around--most of his belongings were cheap, placeholders.

“What do you do in your free time, Amador?” Will asked darkly. 

“I’m a horse trainer, I--”

“Really? Fine by me, if you want to lie,” Will said, dragging Amador over to the sink. 

“No, please,” he begged, but Will just started cutting. Amador screamed, and screamed, until he choked out, “I work for this guy, Vasquez, I’m just a messenger, please--!” Will stopped cutting, looking at him. 

“How many people have you killed? Vasquez?” 

“I--I don’t know about Vasquez but it’s a lot, I’ve only done one or two, please, please, John, please!”

Will smiled, and that was that. He slit Amador’s throat, bleeding him over the sink until he was dead. Most of the blood had gone down the drain, but some of it was left on the cabinets. Oh well, Will thought. I’ll clean it up once he’s in the bag.

Amador in the bag, Will swiftly erased his tracks, even turning the lights off and locking the door with Amador’s house keys once they had gotten outside. He took the keys with him, intending to throw them into the ocean. He carried Amador’s corpse back to the house, and latched the gate securely. No one would be bothering them for a while. He set Amador on the front steps while he walked to the ocean to throw away the keys--Hannibal and the chairs were gone. He returned quickly, dragging Amador inside. He had thrown the knife into the ocean as well. Turning, he noticed Hannibal sitting at the breakfast bar, staring at him. He had set up the kitchen for a whirlwind of cooking, and was dressed like he used to be when he cooked--a dress shirt and slacks. He was wearing slippers, though, which mildly ruined the image. Will smiled, and Hannibal smiled back. 

“It was my turn to provide the meat,” Will said. 

“Bring him to the basement. We must harvest as soon as possible.”

Dinner that night was excellent, Will mused. Loin paired with the same red wine they had been drinking earlier. The flavors melded on his tongue so well, Will felt like he was in heaven. They ate silently, but Hannibal stared openly at Will. Will looked back, and smiled. Honestly, there really wasn’t any more he could ask for. 

After dinner, Will was slated to do the dishes while Hannibal cleaned up in the basement. He had been spacing out, looking out the large window to the moonlit sea, when he heard the telltale shuffle of slippers behind him. He pretended not to have heard it, and chuckled when Hannibal wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“Had you done this to me, say, a month ago, I wouldn’t have accepted it,” Will said, and Hannibal laughed. 

“Repeating what I said to you earlier? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Consider me sincere,” Will said, turning to face Hannibal. 

Hannibal leaned down, and Will almost let him, but pressed his finger to his lips. 

“Not until you tell me what  _ mylimasis  _ means,” Will said teasingly. 

Hannibal kissed Will’s finger, rubbing his hand up and down Will’s back. 

“It means ‘sweetheart’,” Hannibal said. “I won’t tell you the others--you’ll just have to learn some Lithuanian. And some Spanish, while you’re at it.” Will laughed, smiling.

“Ok,  _ mylimasis,”  _ Will said gently. “I love you, too.”

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s, and Will felt that same ache in his chest that he had been feeling so much of nowadays. Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s, deepening the kiss, and felt Hannibal smile against his mouth. They broke apart, beaming. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Hannibal said quietly, and Will nodded assent. 

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Will responded, and Hannibal went back in for another kiss.

Somehow, Will knew that this would  _ finally  _ last. And he was ok with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lithuanian Translations:  
> Mylimasis: "sweetheart"  
> Brangusis: "dear"  
> Meile: "Love"  
> Aš tave labai myliu: I really love you/I love you a lot


End file.
